


Tab

by gertrudeabernathy



Series: Keyboard [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gertrudeabernathy/pseuds/gertrudeabernathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is the point of trying to have rules to protect each other if SOME PEOPLE are going to bend them in every sexy direction possible?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tab

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 6A of the 'Keyboard' series. It's just a fragment that used to be stuck into another story. It's pretty dirty but I also think it's romantic, so I didn't want it to get lost!

One Wednesday night, a few weeks after their first intense date in the woods, Stiles said goodnight to Derek in the usual way, then found himself feeling unbearably antsy. Some rigorous but subversive constitutional scholarship gave him the idea that he might now have a way to justify phone sex, which he initiated at 10.30 pm, about three minutes after Derek had jumped out the window with his socks and boots in his hand, when he heard the Sheriff’s cruiser coming up the street.

"Isn't your father there?"

“The lights were out, he’ll be downstairs heating up his dinner, he thinks I’m asleep, it’s fine.”

“Because no-one ever put something on to heat and then went upstairs to wash up and change. ”

“You are such a Prissy Penelope. Tell me what you really wanted, before.”

“Hold on." (Stiles heard the call go on speaker.) "I wanted you to show a bit of sense… Wait - Stiles - are you…?” Derek had heard a suspicious hitch of breath, and he sounded a little horrified.

“I am totally - unghh - within my constitutional rights because - fuck! - my nice white cotton panties are still on and my hand is outside them.”

“Stiles! You’ll rub your dick raw!”

“See, this is where you underestimate me. I slicked myself through the material.”

“Oh my god … you …”

“Yep, it’s laundry day, and these are old ones and they are so, so thin and soft, mmnhh, oh Derek, they just soaked up that lube like - OH FUCK - like anything and I can pull that material right round it - and I won’t get a drop of come outside them, I promise -“

“Stiles -“

“I can pull it really hard, and I’m thinking about you when you were sucking my fingers tonight, remember? - you wanted to suck me off, I know you did, oh Derek, oh, I wish you would, I’m so hard - I’m so close - I wish you would forget everything just one time, and lick the head of my dick - oh, ngh, - with your beautiful soft - oh! - “

Derek was sitting in his car a few blocks away on a back road, with his phone in his hand again, having pulled over hastily to the verge. Listening to Stiles making those sounds while driving could cause a dangerous accident, if something were to happen suddenly. For instance, if an oak tree unexpectedly grew up beside the road, he might drive straight into it. He forced himself to relax, and to stop pressing the phone against his ear so hard it hurt.

“So Derek.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to maybe suggest another amendment so YOU can jerk off now?”

“I’m allowed to jerk off anyway!”

“But not with me listening, because we will kind of be there together, and there will be come on skin, right?”

“I could just hang up on you.”

“Hey, no fair!”

Derek felt a wave of overpowering emotions, more different ones than he could count or identify, and they all came almost at once: he wanted to laugh out loud at how incensed Stiles was; he was proud of his reckless sexual confidence; he was ridiculously, sentimentally, touched, because Stiles had stuck to the letter of their Constitution; he was afraid that the sheriff would say “Who are you talking to?” and then he would hear Stiles say, “No-one,”; he was still very turned on; and then he was worried, because Stiles’ breathing didn’t sound annoyed any more.

Then Stiles said plaintively, “Derek, did you hang up?” He sounded hurt, and terribly lonely.

Derek cleared his throat roughly. “No, I’m here. I wouldn’t, not like that.”

“I thought you were really mad at me!”

“Stiles.”

“You aren’t mad?”

What could he say? He rubbed his eyes almost angrily.

“I can’t - your Dad will definitely hear if I come back to your house. This - on the phone - this is risky enough.”

“You want to come back tonight?” And that note of wicked triumph was back again. Was it normal for people’s moods to swing that fast? Was this a teenage thing, evidence of immaturity? If it was, what was wrong with HIM? He had wanted to laugh, and had cried, and almost come in the last two minutes, after all. "You should totally come back here now," sighed Stiles.

“How old are you?”

“As if you have forgotten! Seventeen and four months, going on forty, it feels like.”

“I should go - but -“

“But what?”

“Just give me a minute to think,” and Derek got out of his car, walked to the nearest big tree and leaned against the bark, smelling the night air and listening. Then he walked back and got in, leaving his door wide open, and picked up the phone.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Are you OK, Derek? You are kind of scaring me.”

“I don’t know if this is going to help with that, or not.”

“If what is?”

“I mean - you already know I love you, don’t you?”

Stiles was breathing hard. “You never said it - like that - outright - before.”

“Well, I’m not much for…”

“You are though. You so are. You are fantastic at telling me how you feel, you are so clear, and you are so lovely, Derek, even your stupid fucking rules that mean I can’t touch you properly are lovely, but if I get killed before I turn 18 and I never ever get to stick Tab A in Slot B, you are going to have the angriest ghost of all time haunting you, do you hear me, you stupid, fucked-up, beautiful man.”

“Where is the Sheriff?”

“He’s downstairs watching Colbert and laughing, stop worrying.”

“Which one of us has Tab A, by the way?”

“We both have a Tab A!”

“Why wouldn’t they name them so that Tab A went into Slot A?”

“All right, make fun of me, but listen, if my briefs were on and you pulled out just before you came and didn’t come on me, you could legally bring yourself off between the tops of my thighs, if I was slicked up, right?”

Strangely, this conversation was giving Derek a hard-on that was actually painful while he was sitting in a bucket seat with it inside his jeans. He rectified the situation.

Stiles sounded wistful. “Because then I would get to hear you and feel you, at least.”

Derek was ashamed of himself, but he temporarily gave up on any attempt at propriety, in the interests of getting Stiles to keep talking. “Should we be looking to draft an amendment about - mnh - coming being all right if we can't see it?”

“What are you talking about? Because if those were the rules - technically, if you left my jeans around the tops of my thighs, and you fingered me, put your wet finger in my ass I mean, first just your third finger and then maybe your index finger too, just sliding in slow - that’s something you would like, right?”

Derek made a noise that indicated that he would, probably, find that interesting.

“And then technically, if you wore a rubber and you actually fucked me and you came inside me - yeah, let me hear you - if you came in my ass - then there would be no come except inside the rubber, and we wouldn’t be able to see it, would we? - So that rule doesn’t seem to rule much OUT, does it? Your sexual rule-drafting seems to be getting sloppy, Derek!”

The only answer was an exhausted groan.

“Shit, Dad turned off the TV. Nighty-night.”

“Good night, Stiles.”

“Hey - Derek?”

“Yes?”

“Me too!” he whispered, and cut the connection.

Derek had sprawled back in the seat, his wet, softening dick in his lap, and stared out through the open door of the Camaro at the sky for a while, remembering.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


End file.
